


Colour and Light

by BlaiddDrwg1982



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Casual nakedness, Derek is his canvas, Established Relationship, M/M, Stiles is an artist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-26
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2019-01-05 15:02:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12192198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlaiddDrwg1982/pseuds/BlaiddDrwg1982
Summary: Some days there is a certain joy in living that lends itself to artistic expression.





	Colour and Light

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired partially by the dream sequence from BtVS where Willow is painting the poem on Tara’s back. In Greek.

In the darkened room, the flickering of candles made their shadows dance and jump as the soft air currents moved through the room. The curtains were drawn and the low hush of crackling fire drown out the world beyond the four walls. Naked though they were, it was not a time for consummating their love, but instead allowing for one person to work their art, and the other to be the canvas. 

Derek lay stretched out on their bed, utterly relaxed, humming softly as Stiles dipped his brush in the paint that Derek held in his right hand. Tensing for only a moment as the cool paint touched his skin, he immediately relaxed, allowing himself to serve as both Stiles’ muse and medium. 

Feeling the slow lettering move across his shoulders and down his back, he was almost purring in his contented state. Holding still for so long was almost like second nature to him, given how much time he had to spend in one position if he was trying to avoid notice.

As the evening progressed, he felt Stiles draw an ornate knot at the base of his spine, right at the curve of his ass. It would be, as with every other time, a smaller mirrored version of the tattoo he had between his shoulder blade. Letting Stiles take the paint from his hand, Derek buried his face in his arms. Hearing Stiles retrieve his camera, he felt Stiles climb on the bed, and fuss with the machine. After several long moments, he heard the rapid clicking of the camera taking dozens of shots that Stiles would painstakingly sift through and edit together to get the perfect shot, then produce on a massive scale. 

“Read it to me.”

This was a first. Derek never asked, usually just waiting for the final product. Their friends knew that the back in all of Stiles’ portraits was his, and he loved the way Stiles would balance light and colour with the words he chose to place on Derek’s skin. Sometimes it was post love making, while he was still flushed from the exhilaration of being with his mate. Sometimes it held the red of his anger and frustration as Stiles would do this after they fought. And sometimes, like today, it was on the relaxed skin, after a day of doing virtually nothing, except watching TV and snuggling on the couch.

Feeling Stiles’ nakedness sit once again on his butt, he felt his lover’s hands delicately trace the words he drew.

“And I find myself thinking, as I look upon my canvas  
That none are so lucky as I, to draw it down so well.  
To be gifted with this bounty, and to always find it full  
Is to be blessed beyond measure, and humble in its presence.  
So I thank the one before me, for his love with no expectation  
To hand his heart so freely, and take mine into his hands.”

Derek smiled. He knew that Stiles was struggling with this one, but to his admittedly uneducated ear, it sounded quite lovely. Of course, knowing he was the subject of it made it an instant win in his books anyway.

“What language did you translate it into this time?”

“Greek. 7th Century BCE.”

Looking over his shoulder with a bit of a grin. Whenever Stiles was translating to older languages, it was because he didn’t want the words to be a distraction on what he was trying to show in the portraiture.

“I love it.”

“It isn’t my best work. The writing that it. I think the picture is going to be stunning.”

Derek rolled over, lacing his hands behind his head. The paint was dried and would require a hell of a lot of scrubbing to come off.

“Like I said.”

He pulled Stiles close, kissing him soundly.

“I love it.”


End file.
